Black Cloaks of Lawndale
by Kairan1979
Summary: Fantasy AU. Daria Morgendorffer possesses a rare and dangerous Gift: she is a Necromancer. Her life will never be the same.
1. Prologue

**Prologue.**

_He had lived a thousand lives.__He was a pig farmer; he was a merchant; he was a soldier, a nobleman and a poet. Sometimes he was tall, handsome and muscular; sometimes he was crippled from birth. _

_This time the cards weren't dealt in his favor. He wasn't the ruler of the United Kingdom of Ireland, Scotland and Wales, hero of the Second Battle of Hastings. He wasn't ship tycoon and philanthropist from Portland. He wasn't world's famous comedian. He was just Artie Simmons, pizza delivery guy. Nothing special, except for knowing __what could have been__._

.

Artie's musings ended when he fell off his bike. Scraping himself off the grass, Artie examined the bike and discovered a flat tire; two pizzas were damaged beyond repair.

_Fired again, fired again, juggity-jig. Oh, well, I don't have to hurry back to Pizza King. I can as well enjoy the walk._

Artie walked along the quiet sidewalk. When he passed the Gupty house, he saw Tad and Tricia playing in the front yard. Artie remembered the world when two kids grew up and spent their whole lives fighting to replace the nuclear power plants with the alternative sources of energy. Tricia Gupty-Jackson was eighty years old when she succeeded - the last nuclear power plant in the world was shut down.

Seeing Mrs. Johanssen waiting for a bus, Artie smiled briefly, remembering another Iris Johanssen, with long dark hair and hourglass figure. She was nominated for an Oscar for her role in the remake of Gone with the Wind, but lost to Vivian Taylor.

Artie crossed Dega Street and barely escaped bumping into Daria Morgendorffer and Jane Lane. They smirked when he flinched away from them.

Artie wasn't scared by "Alien Love Goddesses". He was escaping from the multitude of possibilities radiating from the Dynamic Duo. The girls hadn't the slightest idea of how special they were. But Artie knew. He saw hundreds of the worlds, and every time Daria or Jane played an important role.

Artie closed his eyes to better see one of these worlds.

.

_- He saw Leonardo da Vinci formulating nine core Principles of Magic in his journal; _

_- He saw the War of Enlightment between the society of mages and the church. Europe was torn apart by the wars; some rulers welcomed the mages with open arms, the others persecuted, tortured and killed mages in God's name; _

_- He saw Napoleon losing at Vaterloo because Emmanuel de Grouchy was misdirected by the illusionary army created by Prussian mages; _

_- He saw the assassination of Tsarevich Nicholas in Otsu and the beginning of First World War in 1892; _

_- He saw Hitler trying to open the gates for the Nameless Ones and unleash them on the unsuspecting world; Fuhrer was in the middle of ritual when General Friedrich Olbricht stabbed the madman in the back; _

_- He saw Japanese mages spilling their blood on Okinawa soil, sacrificing their lives to obliterate the Allied fleet. It was a Pyrrhic victory - too many mages had been lost to activate the deadly spell of Steel Typhoon. The Allies lost their fleet, but Japan was defenseless against aerial attacks;_

_- He saw Malcolm X in Dallas, creating powerful force field to shield John Kennedy from the bullets;_

_- He saw Tsar Alexander V marrying Princess Anne, the daughter of Elisabeth II; _

_- He saw __**Living Crescent**__ crashing into the western side of Pentagon, the following war and the end of Ottoman Empire; _

_- He saw David Copperfield, the First Mage on Mars;_

.

And he saw Daria Morgendorffer, two years younger than the girl he just met. Daria wasn't happy when Jake and Helen decided to sent their daughters to the summer camp. Little did they know that Camp Grizzly is going to be the turning point in Daria's life.

They didn't know. But Artie _knew_.


	2. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1. **

.

Chaplain Timothy O'Neill paced back and forth in Principal's office, gathering the courage to speak. Five pairs of eyes watched him with a mix of impatience and boredom.

"I had the liberty to go through the files of our potential recruits. What I've learned is really disturbing. One of the newborn mages in Texas, she is… Well, it seems that the situation is more complicated than usual."

Claire Defoe whispered, "Five bucks that he is blowing things out of proportion… again."

Janet Barch whispered back, "You know I don't take sucker bets."

Anthony DeMartino snorted, "Timothy, surely after you **claimed** that Tommy Sherman is "**sensitive** misunderstood soul**"** you can understand why we are a bit **skeptical**."

Coach Morris asked, yawning, "Seriously, what was it all about?"

O'Neill continued, unperturbed, "First of all, the girl's name is Dara... Dora…" he checked his notes, "_Daria_ Morgen… Morgendorffer."

DeMartino's bad eye nearly popped out, "MORGENDORFFER? As in Robert "Mad **Dog**" Morgendorffer?"

"Mad Dog?! I wasn't aware he had a family! I pity the woman who had to deal with that misogynistic pig on daily basis!" Ms. Barch sneered; the deep scar on her cheek became even more visible.

"I contacted my colleague, Chaplain Van Driessen, and he confirmed – the girl was unaware about her Grandfather's legacy. Daria knew her aunt on mother's side had a Gift, and that's all."

A very long silence filled the office. Sometimes people who were frustrated by the lack of Gift deliberately limited any contacts their children could have with the world of magic.

_But not telling about the Gifted parent of grandparent…_

DeMartino exploded, "That's an inch away from breaking the **law**!"

"Now, Anthony, don't be so judgmental, you don't know the whole story. Jake Morgendorffer was under a lot of pressure from his father; Robert wanted…"

"For once, I agree with DeMartino," Doctor Manson said, not taking her eyes off the notebook, "Her parents were irresponsible. If the girl lived a sheltered life, it may take a longer period of adjustment. It's harder to study and the risk of burning out is higher."

Morris shrugged, "So far I haven't heard anything worth gathering all of us. She is problematic? Who isn't? I'm sure Lawndale Academy can handle this girl, Daria, whoever she is," she started to get up, but was frozen in place.

"Sit down, Morris," Principal Angela Li demanded, materializing in her chair, "The rest of you, take a good look at this photo," Ms. Li showed them the rectangular piece of paper. Anthony DeMartino gritted his teeth, remembering something unpleasant. Claire Defoe paled and Chaplain O'Neill nearly fainted.

"I borrowed the photo from the evidence locker. That's the results of her First Spell."

* * *

"_Where's Skip?"_

_Tatiana said, "I heard from Andy who heard from Travis that Skip is finally fed up with that weird girl."_

"_Which one?"_

"_The one with the creepy stories."_

"_Ah, that one. It's hard to tell them apart."_

_Tatiana giggled, "Yeah, they are, like, long lost sisters."_

_To keep the conversation back on track, Quinn asked, "So what about Skip?"_

"_He is going to teach her a lesson of respect."_

"_Gee, It's about time. Who does she think she is?"_

_Quinn smiled, though her usual brilliant smile looked a bit forced, "Of course, Tatiana. Who cares what these losers think? They'll never..."_

_B__lood-curdling shriek echoed throughout the forest. _

.

Quinn woke up covered in sweat and breathing heavy. _Not THAT dream again, please?_ She still saw twisted little smile on Daria's face, bloodstained torn t-shirt and the glasses with one cracked lens. Quinn leaned over to the bedside table and switched on the lamp.

_7:15am. _

Quinn sighed and slowly got out of bed. She tiptoed to the bathroom at the end of the hall and shut the door. Turning on the hot water tap, red-haired girl allowed the water to wash the sleep off her. Then she looked ruefully at her reflection in the mirror. Every night since they returned from the summer camp Quinn had nightmares, and every morning she was afraid to find puffy eyelids or dark eye circles.

_Damn you, Daria! I'm going to lose my looks because of you!_

Quinn put on the bathrobe and went back to her room. She passed Daria's room on the way back. The door was half-open, and Quinn caught a glimpse of two ugly posters hanging on the wall.

_Geez, I'll never get used to it. Daria is such a freak!_

In the safety of her perfectly pink room, Quinn once again tried to wrap her mind around the events of the last month. Camp Grizzly lost its appeal after the accident, and learning that Daria is Gifted was a rather nasty surprise.

Quinn admitted that she was more than a little worried by the changes in family dynamics. Daria was problematic before; Quinn suspected that her sister felt some sort of sick pleasure when she embarrassed them in public by dressing up like a bum and insulting everybody.

_What if only Daria is Gifted, and I'm not? It happened before, when Aunt Amy inherited Barksdale's family Gift. Mom still rants about it sometimes, when she thinks I'm not listening._

_And what it I take Franklin's Test and it confirms I'm Gifted too? That means transfer to the magic school. Can I be as popular as before in a school full of mages?_

Her thoughts were interrupted by Dad's voice, "Helen, it's my fault! I'm horrible, horrible father!"

* * *

Despite Helen's best efforts Jake was close to a nervous breakdown. It was much worse than his everyday rants about Old Man.

Helen was relieved when Daria returned from the school and distracted Jake.

"Are you okay, Kiddo?" he asked hovering over Daria, "They didn't hurt you?"

_Ah, Jake. I told you, she hates this nickname._

Daria rolled her eyes in annoyance, "Dad, Franklin's Test isn't painful."

"It isn't?"

"It wasn't since 1887 when Edison improved it. But I don't think you two need a history lesson," she dug into her backpack and removed a large sealed envelope, "All the gory details are here, but if you want Cliff Notes version..." Daria rolled up the sleeve of her green jacket and showed them the bracelet of Apprentice.

Helen couldn't shake the feeling of _déjà vu _she was getting. Amy used the same gesture when she demonstrated her bracelet.

_Except Daria's bracelet is black._

The color of the bracelet explained a lot. Daria's bad attitude and the unwillingness to socialize with the kids of her age was fairly normal behavior for a potential Dark Arts student. It wasn't the result of bad parenting or some hidden trauma. Daria's counselors were wrong. Helen felt a headache getting stronger.

_The last time I was called to school, these incompetent morons started talking about getting Daria professional help. And I seriously considered it. If Jake thinks he is a bad father, what does it make me? Why couldn't I trust my daughter more?_

Helen cringed, remembering why she supported Jake's decision to keep Daria in the dark. She tried to stop her daughter from turning into Amy 2.0.

When Amy went to Crestmore and returned proudly brandishing a degree in Thaumaturgy, Helen felt like an Ugly Stepsister who was invited to Cinderella's wedding. Then Amy shocked everybody by using her new financial independence to effectively cut all the ties with the family. _I don't think Mother got over this. Neither did I._ When little Daria started reading books way beyond her age, fighting all the attempts to give her makeovers and throwing subtle insults at her teachers, the sick feeling in Helen's stomach got worse. She constantly saw Daria getting older and abandoning her family, just like Amy.

Jake kept asking Daria, "What about your element, kiddo? Fire? Water? Earth?"

"I'm a special case, Dad. I'm the first Necromancer in States since 1979."

Jake laughed, "Very funny, Daria. Helen, did you hear that? Our daughter is a Necromancer. How do you come up with this stuff?"

Helen sighed, "Daria, can you be serious for a moment?"

"I'm _deadly_ serious, no pun intended. If you don't believe me, take a look," when Helen and Jake looked at the bracelet, they saw five silver skulls engraved on its surface.

_Oh dear. She wasn't kidding._

* * *

Amy Barksdale was going through a pile of essays, rolling her eyes from time to time. While her predecessor was letting the students to make it with bare minimum, Amy liked her subject too much to put up with the incompetence. She had six more essays to grade when the phone rang.

_Sometimes I hate Alexander Bell for inventing the telephone. I'm not superstitious, but it seemed like every time I pick up the phone, bad things start to happen._

"Professor Barksdale?" the voice on the other side of the line was unfamiliar.

"Yes?"

"Michael Carver, Department of Education."

Amy briefly wondered if the reason for the call from ED was the article published last month by Kaleidoscope. Could it be that one of the outraged readers pulled out the big guns?

"What can I do for you, Mr. Carver?"

"Professor Barksdale, I'd like to inform you that you've been appointed as Mage Evaluation officer. We already sent you everything you'll need, including the results of the student's Franklin's Test."

_S__ending a college professor to babysit? Isn't it a bit of overkill? _Amy refrained from comment in case Carver has no sense of humor. Instead she asked, "What about my schedule?"

"The Dean is informed. Professor Sandra Hollis will be you substitute."

_They are replacing me with Saint Sandra? Damn. Then again, it could be worse._

Amy hung up the phone, resisting the urge to smash and burn the damn thing. Taking a few deep breaths she calmed herself and went outside to check the mall. The package sent by the ED contained two white envelopes and a double pass to the local Zero-T station.

_Thank God for the small wonders. I hate airships._

Felling slightly better, Amy dialed a familiar number and waited for an answer.

"Joel? That's me. Can I take a rain check on dinner? I'll be very busy. No. I don't know. It will take probably longer than a week or two, maybe a month. Yes, it's complicated and no, it's not my choice. I'll call you as soon as I get back. Yes, I promise. Yes. Yes. Love you too."

After canceling the date with Joel Amy absent-mindedly opened one of the envelopes and read the name of her future student.

_Is that what it was all about? My little niece is the first Necromancer they found in almost twenty years? They can't handle her and think I'll do better?_

When Michael Carver called her, Amy was annoyed by the assignment fallen into her lap. Now she was looking forward to it.

_Hang on, Daria, _Amy thought while dragging the suitcase from under the bed,_ This time I'm armed to the teeth with official papers and Helen the Lawyerosaurus Rex can't stop me from seeing my favorite niece. _

* * *

Quinn spent an uncounted amount of time in front of mirror, applying mascara, eyeshadow and lip-liner until she was satisfied by the results.

The young man with wavy black hair smiled from the poster on the wall and Quinn smiled back. Magician's Legacy was Quinn's favorite TV show. Every time she heard intro music, she barely could hold back the excitement. Andrew was so dreamy! He was a perfect gentleman; the boys she dated in Highland High couldn't hold a torch to him (and the mansion Andrew inherited from his Grandfather was a BIG plus in Quinn's book). She watched all five seasons of Magician's Legacy and was very upset after the announcement that the seventh season is going to be the last.

_I wonder if Andrew ends up with Jill or Edwina._

Quinn's bright smile turned into grimace when she remembered Daria and her scathing comments. Daria hated Magician's Legacy with a passion, and she could be very vocal about her dislikes.

"_With all the efforts to made Andrew's "magic" look realistic, why couldn't they write a scenario worth a damn? Or create characters without playing into cliché? Andrew is a typical Perfect Guy, we have two girls fighting over him, a comic relief, a jerk with a heart of gold and a badass old man, who is also Andrew's Grandpa in disguise, but we are not supposed to figure it out until Season Three. What else? A bunch of villains who want to the mansion for themselves but never think of something simple, like hiring an assassin, or using legal means, because Andrew is underage and lives unsupervised. No, let's create a complex plan that isn't going to work."_

_Mom interrupted her tantrum, "Daria, don't you think you are too judgmental?"_

_Daria ignored her remark, "Mom, can you tell Quinn that her beloved Andrew is a complete imbecile? He leaves dangerous magic artifacts in the open, so they could be stolen or misused. It's like leaving loaded guns around the house where kids can find them."_

So much has occurred since that talk. Parents sent them to Camp Grizzly and Quinn had her first close encounter with the world of magic. It was nothing like Magician's Legacy; it was more like one of the horror movies Daria liked.

Everything that happened afterwards was a blur in Quinn's head. Mr. Potts taking Daria to the Healer; Rangers blocking the only road out of the camp; yellow tape everywhere. The cute police officer asking questions; he looked like he was surprised and a bit disappointed by Quinn's answers. Mother threatening to ground her if she starts criticizing the judge's outfit.

Even if the court bought Daria's story, Quinn had a hard time to believe that Skip Stevens tried to force himself on her brainy sister. _Eww! Not even Skip can be that distasteful!_

Quinn's uneasiness turned immediately into panic when the front door unlocked and opened on its own.

* * *

Daria lay on her bed, which was unmade. She stared at the ceiling, an impassive impression plastered on her face. She wasn't even blinking. Maintaining the calm and unbreakable facade became natural through the years of loneliness. Daria learned the hard way not to show her vulnerable side, the weakness are too damn easy to exploit.

She told her parents that Franklin's Test wasn't painful. But the ordeal left her physically and emotionally drained.

_I can't believe Van Driessen tried to give me "it's not your Gift, it's the way you use it" speech. Our Chaplain was always idealistic, but I never pegged him as a delusional idiot. Black Cloaks are the outcasts of the world of magic. And I'm not just a Black Cloak, I'm freaking Necromancer!_

Daria wasn't worried about becoming even bigger outcast than before. She wasn't a part of the crowd as long as she could remember, and the truth was that she preferred things to be that way. But Highland High was a familiar territory; Daria knew all the bullies and troublemakers and was confident in her ability to fend off most of them. Things could take a turn for the worse in the magic school. A can of bear mace and a well-placed kick isn't much of a defense against the magic attacks. And her Gift was too lethal.

_I don't think I can get away with it if I kill again._

Even under the best of circumstances, if nobody tried to pick on her, Daria knew she had already drawn more attention to herself than was wise. And considering how unique her Gift was, she won't be able to fade into background anymore.

Daria kept staring at the cracks in the ceiling, her thoughts twisting and turning around in her head, when she heard Quinn's panicked cry from the living room.

"Stay back! Get out of my house or I'll call the police!"

Knowing her sister's tendency to exaggerate, Daria wasn't in a hurry to rescue her. But curiosity won over laziness. Daria sat up in bed and stretched. Putting on her boots and grabbing green jacket, she came out of her room and peered downstairs to see what scared Quinn so much.

The front door was wide open; the woman with wavy long hair stood in the middle of the living room. Two large suitcases were floating in mid-air behind her. The woman noticed Daria peering from the stairs and shot her a disarming smile,

"I came in peace. Take me to your leader."

Daria blinked in surprise, "Aunt Amy?"

* * *

About two thousand miles away from Highland, a young man in his twenties woke up in the dismal surroundings he called home – a messy room with a saggy mattress, an old guitar lying among the empty cans on the floor.

Trent sat up on the edge of the bed, ran a hand through his scruffy pitch-black hair and sighed. In his dreams the Great Music was within his grasp while in reality it constantly eluded him.

_That was a price I paid for staying loyal to the Music. And I'll do it again._

Trent whipped out his notebook from under the bed and started writing, trying desperately to capture the echo of Great Music in the corners of his mind. He was carried away on a tide of inspiration and he failed to notice the weird sounds coming from downstairs. Only when Jane ran into his room, wide-eyed, and tried to lock the door, Trent realized something must be wrong.

He set aside the notebook and asked, "Janey?"

"Trent! Thank God you are awake! See if you can find something to barricade the door!"

"What… happened?" he still wasn't completely awake.

Jane shouted, "No time to explain! Just do it!"

Before Trent could think, the door was ripped from the hinges.

_Am I still dreaming?_

That was a valid question because giant floating eyeball with long black tentacles can only belong to nightmares. And yet here it was, reaching through the threshold and trying to grab his sister. The protective tattoos on Trent's arms started glowing, warning him. Jane tried to hold the monster off using old camera tripod like a club; her efforts were valiant but futile.

_Janey… trying to protect me. That's so wrong! I'm supposed to protect her… DAMN! _

Jane lost her makeshift weapon, but Trent still had his, though he cringed at the though of using it.

_Janey is more important!_

With a newfound resolve, Trent grabbed a guitar.

Jane saw the tentacles jerking away as her brother started to play. The music was chaotic, harsh and unpredictable; every sound was like nails on a chalkboard. Trent's face, normally impassive, was twisted with anger, his mouth was a tight line, and even a goatee looked malicious. Jane gasped with dread when she realized what he was doing.

_He broke his oath… for me. Oh, Trent!_

The monster howled and staggered back, pushed by Trent's music. But Trent wasn't going to let it go; he paralyzed the monster with a spiderweb of despair and horror. Then the music intensified, bringing the darkness and the poison, stinging and cutting the creature with a scalpel of sound.

The music died; the floating eyeball exploded.

* * *

"...and both Rita and Sam were soaking wet. She was furious and threatened to tell Mother, but we were good at covering our tracks. Rita had no proof any of us were involved."

Helen came home at ten o'clock, hungry and tired, and was unprepared to find Amy, sitting on the sofa in the living room, drinking coffee and chatting with Daria. Quinn was sulking in her room, and Jake was hiding behind the newspaper. Helen suspected that her husband was still coming to terms with the fact that his daughter is Necromancer.

_But I'm sure Daria enjoys her new status. She welcomes any opportunity to alienate people._

Daria asked, "What about Aunt Rita's boyfriend?"

"Two months later Rita caught him with a cheerleader. That sorta puts a damper on the relationship."

"Can't imagine why," Daria said with a smirk.

Usually recalling the great pranks they pulled on Rita left Helen in much better mood. Especially with Amy as a narrator; Amy always had a way with words. But every time Helen saw Daria and Amy smile at each other as if sharing a private joke, she felt a stab of jealousy.

_When was the last time Daria smiled at something I said? _

"…once you are mastered the basics, and I'll have a better understanding of your talents, we'll make a decision about the school."

_Get a grip, Helen. That's important._

"…convenient that your Gift manifested during the summer. It makes the transfer easier; you don't need to catch up with the other students."

Quinn's ears perked up after she heard the word "transfer".

"Already thinking how to turn my room into a spare closet? Well, you are not off the hook, _sis_," Daria said, underlining the last word, "You'll be tested very soon. Maybe we'll share classes."

"Yeah, right! Like that ever happen."

Daria asked slyly, "So you prefer failing Franklin's Test and staying in Highland High?"

"Yes…! I mean no…! Oooh, you'll never understand!"

Their lives were already complicated more than enough, but Amy's arrival turned everything upside down. Like the sibling rivalry between Quinn and Daria; it was really getting out of hand. Quinn was whining and complaining the whole time, driving Helen insane. Daria wasn't openly confrontational; she used the embarrassing stories about Rita as a way to attack Quinn indirectly. And Amy added fuel to the fire by calling Daria "my favorite niece".

_Is there some way to replace Amy as Evaluation Officer_? Helen wasn't sure, but she intended to find out. _Now where are my law books?_

* * *

The C was off.

Trent already tried to tune the guitar, but his heart wasn't in it.

_There was a monster in our house. He nearly got Jane. You can't just forget about it. _

The remains of the monster were already put in plastic bags and hauled away by two mages from the Special Crimes Unit. Only the dark splashes of blood on the walls were the grim reminder that the giant eyeball was real.

Jane finished giving a statement and joined Trent upstairs. She said, "Whoa, it will take forever to clean up."

"Yeah."

"Not as long as you think," Jane turned in surprise. Standing behind her was a 30-something woman with a broad calm face. She wore a simple teal dress and a hand-painted wooden bead necklace, "I'm Claire Defoe. Perhaps Penny Lane mentioned my name?"

Trent nodded; the name was vaguely familiar, "You were the only teacher Penny liked."

The woman smiled in a slightly absent manner and touched the necklace. It emitted a soft yellow glow, and the smears of blood on the walls slowly vanished, along with the dust and the old cobwebs.

Jane was impressed, "Neat trick."

Trent coughed, "So, Ms. Defoe, what brought you here?"

"The police wanted me as an expert. They asked me to examine the painting and I confirmed it was used as a focus for a Conjuration spell."

"Huh?"

"Your sister must be Tested, and soon, but I'm already sure she is Gifted".

"You mean… _I_ brought that monster to life?" _Holy crap!_

"Jane, this is not your fault. First Spells often result in the destruction of property or even a physical harm," a shadow crossed Defoe's features, as if she were remembering something unpleasant, "Don't blame yourself tor the things you can't control. But please, refrain from painting at least until your teachers figure out how to prevent another accident."

_No painting? Ms. Defoe, you don't know what you are asking me._

The annoyance in Jane's blue eyes was visible, so Ms. Defoe added, "Don't worry, Jane. I'm sure we'll find a solution."

_I'll believe it when I see it. _

"And Trent?"

"Yes?"

"I know about your expulsion from the Bard School, and I know why it happened. I can use my connections to reinstate you."

Trent said firmly, "No. Just because I do something crazy to save Janey's life, doesn't mean I should change my beliefs."

Ms. Defoe gave him her card, "If you ever change your mind..."

"I won't."

* * *

Helen closed the book with a loud sound.

_Another dead end. Dammit! _

Nearly two weeks have passed since her sister's arrival and the things weren't getting any better. Quinn was a nervous wreck, awaiting the day of her Franklin's Test and fearing it in the same time. Jake started to come home later and later, and Helen had a strong suspicion that wasn't work-related; he just couldn't stand the tension. Daria was having a time of her life, using her training as an excuse to spend as much time with Amy as possible.

Helen signed under her breath and rubbed the bridge of her nose. She had to work overtime, so mother-daughter bonding with Daria was out of question.

_There MUST be something I could do!_

Helen closed her tired eyes for a moment and when she opened them she was no longer alone. The woman gasped and nearly fell off her chair, then instinctively grabbed a phone to call 911.

A tall man in a dark suit and sunglasses shook his head and asked, "Why do people always assume we are the bad guys?"

"Maybe you should take a look in the mirror," offered a woman who looked like she could be his twin sister, "Mrs. Morgendorffer, stop fumbling with your phone. I isolated the room, so they won't hear you anyway."

"Special Agent Derek, D.O.A.," the man flashed his badge.

"Special Agent Briggs, D.O.A."

Helen gulped. She couldn't imagine why the Department of Occult Armaments may be interested in her family.

_Except… DARIA?_

"We were monitoring your family for some time and came to conclusion that your action can undermine your daughter's future potential as a combat mage."

"We can't allow this to happen," echoed Agent Briggs.

"Hold on a minute!" Helen weakly protested. "Isn't it up to Daria to decide whether she wants to be a combat mage?"

Briggs explained, "If the newborn mage demonstrates the ability to kill, he has to serve mandatory five years in the military."

"But Daria was attacked!" Helen's heart trembled when she thought about her daughter's horrible experience, "There's a difference between self-defense and a cold-blooded murder!"

Briggs answered without a shadow of sympathy, "Mrs. Morgendorffer, your daughter isn't the first newborn mage who was attacked. Fifty-six percents manifested their Gifts by shielding themselves. Twenty-nine percents used various methods to disappear. Eleven percents paralyzed the attackers, seven percents scared them away. Only two percents used their Gift to kill."

Derek concluded, "It's a well-known fact - the untrained mage can create a killing spell only if deep inside he is ready to pull the proverbial trigger."

_And here I thought Amy as Evaluation Officer was my biggest problem…_

Derek straightened his tie, "I'm glad we were able to give you some food for thought, Mrs. Morgendorffer. We'd appreciate if this stayed just between us," with these words, Derek and Briggs dematerialized.

_I must have done something bad in the past life_, Helen thought bitterly. _First Amy, then these two rejects from James Bourne movies._

* * *

Jane Lane was hungry, sweaty and tired. Cleaning up after the tentacled monster was a thankless job.

_I wish that cleaning spell was s bit more powerful._

She lost her favorite easel, two paintings were destroyed by a fallen bookshelf, and her latest metal sculpture was damaged after Jane used it as projectile. They also had to replace the door to Trent's room._ Not that he locks it anyway. _Still, Jane came to conclusion that the damage could be worse.

She turned off the vacuum cleaner and went outside to take out the trash. Fresh air outside reminded her how hungry she was. When Jane came to the kitchen to ransack the refrigerator, she bumped roughly into Trent, hard, causing both of them to fall on the floor.

"Ouch! Trent, I'm so sorry..."

He helped her up, "It's okay, Janey."

Jane had to look away from the compassion she saw in her brother's eyes, "Trent, about the monster…"

"Janey, it's not your fault," Trent put a comforting hand on her shoulder, forcing her to look at him, "You've heard what Ms. Defoe said. First Spells always mean trouble. Remember Penny and the Naming Gazebo?"

Jane gave him a wry smile, "Oh, yeah. Wind couldn't stop whining for a week," she didn't want to talk about Wind, so she asked, "What do you think about Ms. Defoe?"

Trent gave her a noncommittal shrug, "I dunno, Janey, she seems nice, but I've been wrong before," Jane knew her brother was thinking about his experience in the Bard School, "You'll have to deal with her though. She'll be one of your teachers."

"Why? I know it's Penny's old school but I'm not looking forward to spend the best years of my life in the uniform. I'd rather go to Grove Hills."

Trent's shoulders slumped, "Janey... you don't have much of a choice."

Jane frowned; she couldn't remember Ms. Defoe saying anything about it, "What are you blabbing about? The choice of a school can't be mandatory, unless you killed or maimed somebody."

"Monique had a penfriend in Fremont. She was fed with cheerleaders taunting her and sent a Harpy into their locker room. They transferred her to the closest Military Magic Academy faster than you can say 'Caravaggio'," Trent closed his eyes, as if the explanation drained the rest of his strength, "Sorry, Janey. If you Conjure a rampaging monster, the rules are the same."

"Damn."

Suddenly being Gifted wasn't as cracked up as Jane once thought it was.

* * *

The sand was slowly falling through the hourglass. Daria stared intently at a piece of red granite. Her face was devoid of any emotions, but her body spoke of intense concentration.

At first today's task looked simple enough – to study the texture of stone using only the magic touch. Daria _knew_ she can do it. Five days ago she was able to detect which of three caskets contained Amy's ring without opening them. Yesterday she found a screwdriver hidden in the garage. But today wasn't her day. The time had almost run out, and Daria had yet to form a mental probe.

"Alright," Amy clapped her hands for attention, seeing that Daria's aura was shifting and changing, but nothing else happened, "That's enough. I'm going to give you ten minutes to rest, and then we start again," Daria leaned on the back of the chair, "So how do you feel, Daria? Any progress?"

"Still nothing," Daria said with a scowl of disappointment, "For a minute I thought I felt something odd... but it was just my imagination."

"Daria, from what I've seen so far, you are trying too hard," Amy already had the opportunity to confirm the results of Franklin's test. Daria was more than talented; she possessed the unique combination of perceptiveness, willpower and raw magical strength. The trick was to convince her favorite niece that she was doing just fine for a newborn mage. But Daria was desperate for the visible results, so there was little Amy could do, "I admire your self-control, but sometimes it's doing more harm than good."

"I thought we are learning to _control_ my Gift."

Amy tried to explain, "Imagine stepping on a hose and then trying to water a garden. That's what you are doing right now. Let the magic flow freely."

Daria looked pensive when she glanced at the stone again.

"You've been reading a lot about the uncontrolled magic lately," Daria nodded gravely, "After your First Spell I can't blame you. But there's the difference between blindly stumbling upon something and making a step forward deliberately," Amy patted her hand encouragingly, "You are not scared, you are not fighting for your life, the room is shielded, and I'm here to correct any mistakes you can make."

Daria took a deep breath as Amy stoop up to turn the hourglass over.

"Begin."

After several minutes of silent staring Daria's aura flared up, her eyes lost focus and the undeveloped tendrils of magic from her fingertips touched the piece of granite. Amy watched warily, ready to stop Daria from overexerting herself, until she felt the faint echo coming from the stone.

Amy clapped her hands twice, "Stop!" Daria's eyes returned to normal, "Did you feel it?"

Daria whispered, "The stone... it was pulsing - like a heartbeat."

Amy smiled, "The stone responded to your magic. Congratulations, Daria! Let's go to Pizza Prince and celebrate!"

"You are reading my mind."

Amy added in hushed conspiratorial tones, "You know, nothing burns extra calories like magic exercises."

Daria smirked, "So I can stay thin without eating carrot sticks and salad? Quinn will be SO jealous!"

* * *

Trent said gravely, "We'll have to sell the kiln."

"No!" Jane didn't want to part with the kiln. Not because she could sell pottery to raise some money. The kiln was the last piece of their mother left.

_It's strange how much I miss her. Mother was never there for me when I really needed her. _

Vincent and Amanda Lane were Bohemian and proud of it. They never allowed the responsibilities of parenthood to distract them from pursuing their true calling, and fully supported Summer and Wind who followed their example. This meant three youngest Lane siblings were left to fend for themselves.

_Damn vultures,_ Jane felt bile rising up her throat. She had seen neither hide nor hair of them for months; when Vincent died. Summer and Wind never made it to the funeral; they ignored Jane's frantic calls for help when their mother collapsed. S_he never should have tried to Ascend; the ritual was too complicated. _The Healers confirmed her condition was permanent; Amanda was transferred from hospital to Ashfield Asylum. Only then the wayward Lanes had the nerve to show up.

It was purely a coincidence Penny has chosen the same day to come back from her second tour in Kurdistan. To say she wasn't pleased by the behavior of the elder siblings was the understatement of the century. Learning about their plan to sell Casa Lane was the last straw. Penny had to call a couple of old army friends who provided her with everything she needed to know. Wind was reduced to tears after learning he was wanted for bigamy in two states and the casual mention of child protection agencies made Summer sweat bullets. Penny's unveiled threat to contact the proper authorities (and the unfriendly-looking Earth Golem blocking the door) forced the wayward Lanes to realize that the old house wasn't worth the hassle. They signed away the rights to Casa Lane and ran away with their tails between their legs.

Three years passed, and the younger Lanes came close to losing their home once again. Trent had a bad month and barely scrounged together the money to pay the mortgage. Then their tenant Mr. Hanbury decided it was too dangerous to stay under their roof. _Coward!_ Apparently there was some obscure clause in the contract that allowed terminating it without penalties just because Jane manifested her Gift.

_We counted on the rent; without it we are short on cash again. And Penny isn't going to save our asses this time._

Jane was desperate enough to mention Gary's gallery. "He told me the door is always open. If I sell some copies…"

"You can't."

_Right. Defoe's warning. I can't paint. Damn._

Jane was still grasping at straws, "Trent, I think if I only paint still life...?"

Trent coughed, trying to suppress laughter, "Janey, knowing you we can end up with the evil man-eating orchid."

* * *

Daria was scanning the bottom row of her bookshelf when Quinn entered the room without knocking and said, "Can we talk?"

Daria spent last two hours sitting on the floor and trying to clear her mind. She had little energy left to deal with Quinn on top of everything else. Quinn, mistaking her sister's silence for agreement, launched into a five-minute tirade about Camp Grizzly.

"And if the girls at school find out that you are Necromancer, my reputation will be ruined! I'll never be able to find a date again!"

"Oh, the horror! Quinn Morgendorffer… dateless!" Daria let out a rather nasty half-smile, "I think it's about time for you to learn how fickle the popular people can be."

Quinn knew from experience that the best way to avoid Daria's mind games is to be as straightforward as possible, "How much do you want to keep quiet about it?"

"More than you can afford," normally Daria could start bargaining just to see how much she could extract from Quinn. But today she was simply too tired to play extraction games.

_Besides, if I know anything about Quinn, she' is going to tell everybody that I was sent to reform school, or committed to insane asylum. So thanks, but no thanks._

"Go away, Quinn. Don't test my patience."

The redhead gave her a mock glare, and said, "Puh-lease, Daria, if you want to be taken seriously, stop talking like a comic book villain; I know you are all bark and no bite."

_Is she really dense or just pretending?_

Daria snapped, "Tell this to Skip Stevens!" Quinn blanched, "But since you've got the attention span of a goldfish, let me remind you what happened. Our parents wanted to celebrate the anniversary of Morgendorffer Consulting without interruptions, so mother had a brilliant idea to send me away to that infernal Camp Grizzly, with no means to escape and a whiny self-centered brat to keep me company."

Quinn listened with trepidation, something in Daria's emotionless voice pinned her feet to the floor.

Daria switched to the lecturing tone, studying her fingernails, "First Spell is usually triggered by strong feelings. Fear, Happiness, _A__nger_," she highlighted the last word, "The negative energy inside me needed an outlet. Skip was a target of opportunity. If the magic wasn't discharged on him..."

Quinn gulped, "You mean..."

"You could die, Quinn. You dodged the bullet, but barely."

"But... we are sisters!" Daria's poker face failed her for a moment and the redhead immediately knew it was the worst thing to say.

"Oh, really?" Daria's voice was laced with venom: Quinn nervously stepped back, "I thought I'm your crazy cousin from Minnesota? No, wait, I'm in the witness protection because my real parents were killed by Mafia. Honestly, Quinn, with all the stories you spin to justify my existence, maybe _you_ should think of becoming a writer."

Unbeknownst to both girls, Helen stood on the other side of the door. Her face resembled a storm cloud.


End file.
